


life is nothing like we pictured it

by wafflesofdoom



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Developing Friendships, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: buck didn't have that many friends. but he was pretty sure he was friends with taylor kelly.or - the one where buck and taylor get a little more comfortable asking each other for help making miracles happen and realise they were the friend they needed all along.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Taylor Kelly
Comments: 26
Kudos: 211
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	life is nothing like we pictured it

**Author's Note:**

> tw for a scene with excessive alcohol consumption.
> 
> my excuse for this is that i think buck and taylor would be hilarious and great friends. title from paper planes by elina (fic largely inspired by the line now I tell you all the things that I don't really want to think about and the concept of buck having a friend who's not from work)

“Distributed them all,” Buck called out, watching as Taylor wrapped up her broadcast. He’d double-checked the numbers with Hen, and Eddie – every vaccine had been administered. “Not a single dose is going to go to waste,” he reassured.

“Thank God,” Taylor sounded relieved. “I really needed a feelgood story today. Standing out here, documenting everyone’s tragedy – and not being able to do anything? It’s been hard,” she admitted, Buck almost taken aback by her honesty. Taylor seemed to have become an entirely different person, since the last time he saw her – or, well, no, that wasn’t true. She’d become a softer, more open version of herself, vulnerable with Buck in that moment in a way she’d never been before with him.

Buck had always felt like Taylor had been the one running circles around him.

But – he understood that helpless feeling. Being there, watching tragedy unfold, and knowing there was nothing you could do to help. Buck himself wasn’t good at being helpless – and he knew Taylor wasn’t – and this pandemic had rendered them both a bit useless, in the grand scheme of things. Being a firefighter, a reporter – they were important jobs, but they weren’t jobs that would cure a virus that had put the whole world on hold.

Still – you had to take your wins. Bobby had told them all that, early on in the pandemic, when they had started to become totally overwhelmed by all the ways they couldn’t help.

“Well,” Buck inclined his head slightly. “Today, you did something. Something really good,” he reassured.

“I made a phone-call,” Taylor shook her head. “I called you,” she continued, her eyes betraying the curious look she was hiding beneath her mask. “I called you, looking for a miracle, and you gave me one,” she shook her head. “Even after I said terrible things. Why?” she looked genuinely confused as to why Buck had helped her, the way he had – but if Buck was honest, he hadn’t hesitated for a second.

He did it for the people of Los Angeles, for one – to help people get vaccines and give them that glimmer of hope that normal life was coming their way sooner, rather than later. Buck had felt that hope himself, the day the 118 were called up for their vaccines, tears welling in his eyes as he stood in line and watched some of the people he loved most in the world get vaccinated against a virus that had upended the world.

And he did it to help Taylor.

Buck had done a fucked up thing, inviting her to that double-date with Albert and Veronica, and not warning her before. Buck was pretty sure if he’d just explained the situation to her, she’d have probably come along for the sheer drama of it, but he’d hurt her – by inviting her to dinner that definitely wasn’t going to be the two of them.

Considering he’d been telling her all about how he was ready for a meaningful relationship a few hours before, Buck could see how it looked – and how it might have felt.

He did it to apologise, and he did it to help Taylor – because she was his friend.

He thought she was, at least – things had never been all that clear-cut, with Taylor.

“’Cause that’s how you treat a friend,” Buck replied softly, watching as Taylor’s eyes brightened. He knew her well enough to have a vague idea of how her smile looked underneath her mask, but he couldn’t help but grin as she lowered her mask, the corners of her mouth quirked up in a smile as she pressed a brief kiss to his mask-covered cheek.

“Thank you,” Taylor said, sincere, putting her mask back over her nose before she walked away, leaving Buck alone as teams from the hospital, and 118, dismantled the impromptu vaccination centre.

“So,” Eddie’s grin was audible. “You and Taylor again, huh?”

Buck shoved at his best friends shoulder. “Shut up.”

“She seems different,” Eddie shrugged. “Nicer. Taylor 2.0, maybe?”

“If we’re going to talk about dating, we could talk about Ana,” Buck countered, raising an eyebrow. “Have you found the confidence to kiss her yet, buddy?”

Eddie gave him a dark look. “I told you that in confidence, asshole.”

“Who told who what in confidence?” Chimney asked, his gossip radar clearly activated.

Buck clapped Chimney on the shoulder. “Nothing,” he said, not planning on landing his best friend in it with the rest of their squad. He’s not quite sure Chimney would let Eddie live it down. “Do you think Bobby will let us order Thai food? I’ve got a craving.”

Buck didn’t have many friends outside of the 118. That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily – the friends he did have through work were pretty spectacular. They were more than friends, really – family, would be a better word. He loved them so much Buck didn’t really have words for it. And Eddie – Buck had never really had a proper best friend, before Eddie, and he wouldn’t trade his relationship with Eddie in for anything. He trusted the other man with his life – literally – and he knew he could – and has, on more than one occasion – call Eddie for anything.

But he didn’t have a lot of friends outside of work. Albert, sure – and Josh, but he always felt quite adjacent to their world, given he worked in dispatch and most of his friends were also first responders.

But –

Taylor wasn’t a firefighter. She was very much outside of Buck’s normal, and he was glad of that, actually. It felt nice to have a friend who he didn’t work with – a friend he could text about normal, random things, like the newest episode of The Bachelor, or recommend new coffee places to. That had been the most unusual development, after they’d spent that day at the scene with the kid on the roof together – he and Taylor texted, now.

Buck was pretty sure that meant they were friends.

Buck was humming under his breath as he tided his kitchen when his phone pinged, a message from Taylor popping up on his screen.

**_taylor kelly_ ** _: is it taking advantage if I ask you for another miracle?_

Buck couldn’t help but grin.

**_buck_ ** _: depends on what it is_

His phone rang a second later, a dishevelled looking Taylor FaceTiming him. “ _How good at you with tools_?” she asked.

Buck bit back a deeply inappropriate joke. “Uh, I think I still need more context.”

 _“My washing machine has just stopped working,”_ Taylor sighed. _“And the company says because of the pandemic, they can’t get anyone out to look at it for six weeks – which is ridiculous, frankly, and I am going to complain about it – but I really need to do laundry. Sorry – I didn’t know who else to call, Buck.”_

Buck let her ramble, waiting until Taylor had finished talking herself in circles. “I’m not sure I can fix it,” he admitted. “But I can try. Want me to come over?”

Taylor looked relieved. “ _Please_.”

“Text me your address,” Buck said, already reaching for the keys of his jeep. “And try not to break anything else while I’m on my way.”

“ _Oh, ha-ha_ ,” Taylor rolled her eyes. “ _Aren’t you the accident prone one_?”

“Do you want my help?” Buck raised an eyebrow.

Taylor smiled softly. “ _I’ll text you my address. Thanks, Buck_.”

It wasn’t until Buck was standing in front of Taylor’s apartment door, toolbox in hand, that he realised he’d never actually been to Taylor’s place. When they’d been sleeping together, the last time, it had been more of a public bathrooms, news van kind of situation (Buck wasn’t proud – but he had been technically homeless, at the time, in his own defence).

Knocking gently, Buck swallowed a laugh as a frazzled looking Taylor answered the door. He was used to her being so put together and perfect, it was unusual to see her like this. He kind of appreciated the fact she trusted him enough to call and ask for his help, if he was being honest.

“Hi,” Buck greeted, holding up the toolbox Maddie had bought him years ago now – for his eighteenth birthday. It had seen him through several jobs, multiple states, and saved his Jeep from total breakdown more than once – he was pretty sure it could fix a washing machine. “I’m here to see a woman about a washing machine?”

“You’re funny,” Taylor said, opening her apartment door all the same, gesturing for him to come inside. “It’s just down the hall – on the right.”

Buck nodded, toeing off his sneakers before following Taylor’s directions, her bathroom looking as though a bomb had hit it, wet clothes and soap everywhere. “You were not joking when you said it was broken,” he noted, looking at the offending washing machine.

“I don’t know why I thought I could fix it myself,” Taylor sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I think I made it worse.”

Buck hummed. “I’ve got this.”

“So,” Buck said, wiping his hands with a towel Taylor had left him. “As it turns out, I do not got this.”

Buck was a pretty handy person – in general. Being a firefighter kind of necessitated it, and even before Buck had been a firefighter, he’d worked his fair share of odd jobs – construction, a bar in Peru where he was a bartender and maintenance man duo – but Taylor’s overly fancy washing machine had defeated him.

Taylor laughed. “Oh, god, I – if I don’t laugh right now, I will cry. I’m working tomorrow – and I have literally got no clothes.”

“Hey, I might not have been able to fix it, but I can offer a miracle – sort of,” Buck grinned, leaning on Taylor’s kitchen island. “I have a perfectly good laundry room in my building you’re welcome to use – today, and until you get this one fixed.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Buck confirmed. “You might need to work around my shifts, a bit – but I know how frustrating it is to have something like this break. I’m happy to help.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mean this to sound rude but – why?”

Buck shrugged. “That’s what friends do,” he said. “And if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can buy me lunch on the way back to mine.”

Taylor looked relieved. “Yeah – yeah, okay,” she nodded. “Let me just get everything I need.”

Buck nodded. He was glad to be able to help – really. He liked being able to help people – it was why he’d ended up in the career he did, he supposed. “I will be raiding your fridge while I wait,” he called after her.

“Eat my chocolate, and you’re dead, Buckley.”

“Wow,” Taylor let out a low whistle as Buck unlocked his front door. “Your apartment is nice. I did not expect this.”

“It’s the same as Veronica’s,” Buck shrugged, setting one of Taylor’s baskets of laundry down on his kitchen island. Every apartment in his building – on this floor, at least – looked the same, an overpriced loft looking out over Los Angeles. It had been the dream, when he’d first viewed it with Ali – big windows and the kind of apartment you dreamed of having when you’re in your mid-twenties and figuring life out in a city like Los Angeles. It had lost some of its appeal, over the years – memories of the aftermath of the bombing, the tsunami, lingering in ways Buck had never been able to fully shake.

Still, it was home – and Buck was glad to have a home, even if it did feel a bit cramped, with Albert living on his pull-out couch.

“Still,” Taylor ran a hand along his kitchen island. “You _have_ decorated it like a Wayfair catalogue. Better than Veronica’s apartment, if you ask me.”

Buck snorted. “Yeah, I had an ex-girlfriend who was an interior designer.”

“Ex?” Taylor raised an eyebrow. Even in her mismatched outfit of yoga pants and a hoodie – a laundry day outfit, if Buck ever saw one – she still looked like she could get on camera and present the news.

“Ex,” Buck confirmed. “Me getting crushed by a ladder truck was too much for her to handle, apparently,” he couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice as he spoke about Ali. He – he couldn’t blame her, not really. Dating a first responder wasn’t for everyone – Buck understood that. But it had felt like she’d picked the lowest moment of his life to come to that conclusion, and it had hurt.

“Sounds like a shitty girlfriend,” Taylor said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “The way you bounced back from that was pretty amazing.”

It had felt like anything but bouncing back.

“Can we not talk about it?” Buck wasn’t sure he was ready to go over the worst few months of his life with Taylor – even if they were maybe friends, now.

Taylor nodded. “Laundry room?” she inquired.

“Uh, I’ll take you there,” Buck said. “I just need to change my shirt – it’s gross,” he admitted, brushing at the stained shirt he was wearing. He’s not sure what exactly was on it, but he definitely needed to wash it.

“Hand it over,” Taylor held out an expectant hand.

“What?”

“Its covered in gunk from my broken washing machine, the least I can do is wash it,” Taylor said, by way of explanation. “Come on. If you want lunch, we don’t have all day.”

Buck unbuttoned his shirt, handing it over to a smirking Taylor. “What?”

“You are so hot its annoying,” Taylor shrugged, adding Buck’s shirt to her pile of laundry. “What do you even need all those abs for?”

Buck couldn’t help the flush that rose in his cheeks as he reached for a clean t-shirt from the pile of laundry he hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet, pulling it over his head. “Are we really going there?”

“No,” Taylor sighed. “That’s probably a bad idea. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look. It would really fulfil multiple fantasies of mine if you’d do my laundry while shirtless, you know.”

Of course it would.

“We’re not at that level of friendship yet,” Buck shooed her out the door of his apartment, and toward the laundry room.

“What level of friendship do I need to get to before you’ll do my chores half naked?” Taylor asked, absolutely shameless as they passed Buck’s elderly neighbour, Mrs Jones, Buck giving her an apologetic look as he hurried past.

“The level after you buy me lunch,” Buck said. “And good lunch. I’m not an easy date.”

Taylor’s grin was sparkling. “I remember you being quite easy, actually.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “I could say the same for you.”

“True,” Taylor set her laundry down. “And look at us now – just two friends, doing laundry together. How far we’ve come, Buckley.”

“Oh, you can do laundry – I’m going to go back to my apartment and take a nap.” Buck just about managed to duck the bundle of clothing Taylor threw directly at his head.

“Rude. You’re rude, Buck.”

“Thank you – again,” Taylor said, closing the trunk of her car. “I owe you a couple of miracles, now, you know.”

Buck smiled, accepting the hug she offered him grateful. “I’ll call you when I think of something.”

“You better,” Taylor smiled. “Friendship is a two-way street.”

Buck hated car crashes.

It would be twisted, if he liked them – without question – but Buck particularly hated them when they were car crashes like this, right on the freeway, cars piled up and more and more coming, causing a chain reaction of bumps and hits.

“This is ridiculous,” Eddie was pouring sweat as he jogged back to them, the sun already blisteringly hot. “Where are LAPD? We need to get a traffic block up.”

Bobby looked helpless. “I’ve radioed three times now.”

Buck felt like he was having a lightbulb moment. “I have an idea,” he said, patting down his pockets, searching for his cellphone. “Taylor owes me a favour.”

“Taylor, as in Taylor Kelly, news reporter Taylor Kelly?” Hen raised an eyebrow.

“Since when is that a thing again?” Bobby looked utterly confused.

“It’s not,” Eddie said wryly. “They’re friends, now.”

Chimney’s smirk was punchable. If Buck was a less good person, of course – he’d never actually punch his future brother-in-law. Maybe. “With benefits?”

“Non-sexual benefits,” Buck pointed out, holding his phone to his ear. “Taylor? Hey, it’s Buck.”

“ _Buck – I’m about to go live. I can’t talk_.”

“I know – but I need that miracle you owe me,” Buck admitted. “We’re at an accident on the freeway, and PD are nowhere to be seen – I need you to tell people to avoid the freeway. Cars are piling up, here – it’s chaos.”

There was a pause. “What part of the freeway?”

“I-405, just off Walnut Avenue,” Buck said hurriedly. “Taylor?”

“This is Taylor Kelly, reporting live from….” was all Buck managed to hear before the line cut out.

“Well?” Hen raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s got this,” Buck said, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “Where do you need us, Cap?”

Buck felt absolutely disgusting as he trudged back to the truck, his t-shirt stuck to him with sweat.

“That was a clever move, Buck,” Bobby called. “Calling Taylor. Athena said people started to avoid the freeway – it gave us time to work while PD hustled to get here.”

Buck couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks, Cap,” he said, loading the jaws back onto the truck.

“So Taylor Kelly just does you favours now?” Hen fixed him with one of her signature, I will get to the bottom of this, Hen Wilson looks.

Buck laughed. “It’s not what you think, Hen,” he shook his head. “We just reconnected recently – and sort of just ended up becoming friends.”

“Could she be more than a friend?” Hen poked.

“I’m not ready for that – with her, or anyone,” Buck admitted. The whole debacle with Veronica had proven that much – while Buck might want to fill that void in his life with romance, it didn’t mean he was mentally, or emotionally ready for it. He still had too much to work through with his parents, his own trauma.

He wasn’t exactly sure, what Taylor’s story was – but he assumed she had her own reasons not to date.

“Okay,” Hen relented. “Then I’m glad you’ve got a new friend, Buckaroo.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Eddie inquired as they scrubbed down the truck, later that morning. “To Hen, I mean. About not being ready to date anyone right now.”

Buck paused, thinking for a second. “Yeah.”

“You never said anything to me,” Eddie said. “I – I figured you were dating. You seemed so eager, before Veronica.”

“I know,” Buck recalled their conversation, sitting on Eddie’s couch while Buck tried to explain dating apps and how they worked to his best friend. Eddie had gotten married, before dating apps were really the norm, and he hadn’t exactly gone and met Ana on Tinder – Eddie had possibly too much fun swiping through profiles on Buck’s account, determined to find him a good date. “I think I only realised it after Veronica.”

“Just because it didn’t work with her, man, doesn’t mean it won’t work with someone else,” Eddie pointed out, brow furrowed.

“I know,” Buck repeated. “Look – I’ve done a lot of dating for the sake of dating, and I liked it. It’s good to date someone with no expectations of it being your happily ever after. But right now, when I do date, I want it to be because I’m looking for the real thing – and that I’m ready for the real thing. I’m not ready for that right now, I wouldn’t be able to give someone that.”

Eddie was quiet, for a second. “Can you really date just for the sake of dating?” he asked, voice soft.

“Sure,” Buck nodded. “Not everyone – not everyone you date is going to be the love of your life, Eddie. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, everyone you date teaches you _something_.”

Eddie groaned, tossing his sponge into the bucket of soapy water at their feet. “Dating is too complicated, man,” he shook his head. “I’ve been out of the game way too long.”

“Is everything okay with Ana?” Buck couldn’t help his concern.

“Yeah – it’s fine, its good, even,” Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I just feel like the rules of dating have changed, since I was last dating, and I’m so behind. It’s like – it feels like running a marathon but turning up and getting told on the day you’re going to have to run it backwards.”

“You want my advice?”

Eddie nodded.

“Stop overthinking it,” Buck shrugged. “There aren’t any rules to dating. Just – do what feels right to you, and for you and Ana. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that, Eds.”

Eddie sighed. “I hate how wise therapy has made you.”

Buck laughed. “No, you don’t.”

**taylor kelly** : I don’t need a miracle, but I do need a drinking buddy. How do you feel about red wine?

 **buck:** only good things

“Happy couples sicken me,” Taylor declared from her position on the floor.

“Why?”

“Because they’re happy,” Taylor said, as if it were obvious.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Buck raised an eyebrow, turning his head so he was looking at Taylor. They’d polished off two bottles of wine before they’d broken into a new bottle of tequila – a new bottle that was looking concerningly empty, now Buck was thinking about it.

“When it’s your ex, it is.”

“Ah,” realisation dawned on Buck. “That’s what this is about.”

“Don’t judge me.”

“I wasn’t,” Buck reassured. “But you can talk to me about it, you know.”

Taylor sighed. “My ex-boyfriend got married today,” she admitted. “We broke up a year ago, and then he met Louise – who is so kind and beautiful and smart, I can’t even be mad about him marrying her. I just wish it didn’t happen so soon after me.”

“Ouch,” Buck winced. “Do you ever feel like a foster home?” he said suddenly.

Taylor’s snort was startling in the silence of her apartment. “What?”

“A foster home for exes!” Buck felt like he’d had an epiphany. “Every single one of my exes met the love of their life after they ended it with me – at least four of them are married to the person they dated after me. I swear – I’m a foster home. I’m the person people date before they find their forever home.”

“Oh _god_ ,” Taylor’s eyes were wide. “I’m a foster home too.”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh. “Do we make people realise exactly what they don’t want in a partner?” he asked, voicing a question that had been bouncing around in the back of his mind for years, now.

Taylor sighed, struggling into a sitting position. “I’m going to need more alcohol before I answer that question.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” Taylor spoke up, breaking their melancholy silence. They were propped up against Taylor’s couch, pressed shoulder to knee as they tackled the dregs of a bottle of tequila.

“I’m never wrong,” Buck mumbled, focused on the fact he was wearing odd socks. Did he really put odd socks on that morning? He was pretty sure Maddie had told him that was bad luck, once.

“You said – all your exes have married the person they met after you. You’re wrong,” Taylor repeated. “I didn’t marry any of the people I dated after you.”

Buck twisted so he was looking at her properly. “We didn’t really date though, did we? Not – not properly.”

Taylor sighed. “So you need to break my heart for me to be able to finally meet the love of my life?”

“Maybe you need to break mine,” Buck countered.

“I like you too much to break your heart,” Taylor admitted, patting his chest. “But don’t tell anyone. That’s a secret.”

Buck mimed zipping his mouth shut. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“You do make me feel safe, you know,” Taylor admitted, her hair tied back off her face in a ponytail that looked like it was defying gravity. “Always did. Even back – back when I was being a total bitch. I knew you were one of the good ones.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Are you trying to tell me my instincts were wrong? Because my instincts are never wrong.”

Buck rubbed roughly at his eyes. “I didn’t know I was one of the good ones, then, so how could you have known? I’m not even sure I’m one of the good ones right now.”

“I’m sure,” Taylor’s brow was furrowed. “Have you met yourself, Buck? Of course you’re one of the good ones. Anyone who can call you a friend is lucky. You’re here, getting fucked up drunk with me on a Tuesday night – and you didn’t even question why. You just came here because you – you realised I needed a friend. That’s why you’re one of the good ones.”

“But – “

“I don’t allow self-depreciating comments in my apartment,” Taylor said, looking deadly serious as she covered Buck’s mouth with her hand. “So you say something nice about yourself, or you can take another shot.”

Buck waited for Taylor to move her hand. “I’ll have another shot, then.”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you, as a partner,” Buck commented, barely holding in a giggle as Taylor poked his cheek. “You should be nicer to yourself. You’re cool – and accomplished, and funny. Not to mention ridiculously beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to end up with you.”

“Don’t make me cry.”

“You should be kinder to yourself, you know,” Taylor’s voice was barely above a whisper, their cheeks squished together as they laid on the floor, Taylor’s projector pointed at the roof as they pretended to watch a film.

“So should you.”

“No, I’m serious!” Taylor whisper-yelled. “You’ve been through so much shit, and you’re still just this – ridiculously kind, funny person who helps people for a living. You’re so nice to everyone you know – just, not yourself.”

Buck was quiet for a second, as he thought. “I’m not sure I know how to be,” he admitted, because that was the truth, wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure if he knew how to be kind to himself. He’d spent so much of his life putting himself at risk for the sake of a scrap of attention, and all those years spent living in a house where he’d barely been noticed hadn’t exactly filled him with an abundance of confidence – or much of an ability to love himself. It was hard, to love yourself, when even your own parents didn’t love you.

“Just treat yourself the way you treat everyone else,” Taylor said, as if the answer was that simple. “You’re good at being kind to other people.”

“You didn’t seem surprised, when I mentioned being crushed by the ladder truck.”

Taylor looked at him carefully. “I saw it on the news.”

“Just like half of Los Angeles,” Buck raised an eyebrow. “I was never named as the firefighter who was under the truck. It could have been anyone from the 118. How did you know it was me?”

Taylor swallowed thickly. “Of course I knew it was you, Buck,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’d know you anywhere.”

Buck was too drunk to think about what that might mean. “Does the news footage still exist?” he asked.

“I don’t think it was my station, Buck.”

“No, I know – but in general. Would news stations keep footage that long?”

Taylor was quiet for a second. “Yeah,” she admitted. “They would.”

“Sometimes – I wonder if I should just try and find it, and watch it,” Buck admitted. “That maybe it wouldn’t – it wouldn’t haunt me, the way it does, if I just watched and it and I saw myself getting rescued.”

“Do you not remember it?”

“Bits and pieces,” Buck shook his head. “It’s – it feels like it happened to someone else, if that makes sense. Like – I remember it, but not clearly. It’s just a big mess of fear, and pain in my head. And sometimes – sometimes I feel like I’m still stuck under the truck.”

Taylor’s expression was genuinely sympathetic. “Would watching yourself get rescued really help with that feeling, though?”

Buck sighed, pressing his face to the couch cushion. “I’m not sure anything ever will.”

“Do you think things might have been different if we did date?” Buck inquired. “Like – would it have worked out?”

“Oh, god no,” Taylor looked at him as if he had grown an extra head. “Do you not remember what I was like, back then? I would have chewed you up and spit you out and it would have been a complete disaster.”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh. “You were scary,” he agreed.

Taylor shoved at his shoulder. “Rude,” she shook her head. “I was so focused on my career – I pushed everyone else aside. And I got the career, in the end – I am living the professional dream. But it’s so lonely sometimes, Buck. I see how your life is, how much your friends love you, and I can’t help but be jealous.”

“You have people,” Buck disagreed.

“I don’t,” Taylor shook her head. “You – you come here, and you’ve got these amazing stories about Eddie, and Christopher, and Maddie, and all of the 118, and it makes me realise sometimes that I don’t have anybody.”

“You have me,” Buck shook his head. “I’m your somebody.”

“You’re sweet,” Taylor reassured, her eyes wet with tears. “So sweet, Buck. But I don’t want to be your foster home before you find your forever after.”

“You won’t be,” Buck disagreed, holding out a pinky finger. “I promise.”

“What are we, five?”

“Maddie and I do this,” Buck said fondly. “And she’s never broken a promise to me. So – I promise I’m your somebody, and I promise you can share all my somebody’s. And I promise you’re not my foster home, Taylor. You’re my friend.”

Taylor rolled her eyes but hooked her finger around Buck’s. “You’re something else. You know that?”

Buck grinned. “I know.”

“I think we’d have been good together, in another life,” Buck said into the dark, hoping Taylor was still awake.

“Yeah,” Taylor hummed her agreement. “In another life, I think.”

Buck didn’t have many friends. Not real, true friends – the kind you could spill your guts to at three am, and not have them judge you for it. He had Eddie – his best friend in the whole world. He could tell Eddie anything, he knew that. Buck had Hen, and Chimney – and Maddie. His favourite person in the world, Maddie. Buck had Bobby.

He’d never really had anyone else, though.

Until Taylor.

His friend Taylor Kelly.

That still sounded weird, sometimes. He couldn’t have imagined a few years ago that he’d end up being friends with Taylor Kelly, of all people – but they were more alike than he’d ever realised.

And she liked all the same shitty reality TV shows he did, which made it all the better.

(“Are you sure you’re not dating?” Eddie raised an eyebrow as they pushed the cart around the grocery store. “It sounds a lot like dating.”

“She’s my friend, Eddie,” Buck laughed. “Don’t tell me you don’t think boys and girls can’t be friends?” he teased. 

“No – I just think you two suit each other,” Eddie shrugged. “Sue me for wanting to see my best friend happy.”

“I am,” Buck reassured, sneaking a packet of marshmallows into Eddie’s cart. “I’m happy, Eddie. And when I’m ready to date – I know it’ll be the right person, this time. The forever after, you know?”

“How do you know it’s the forever after?” Eddie asked, his breakup with Ana still written all over his face.

Buck threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, guiding him toward the checkout. “I think you know because they feel like home, Edmundo.”

Eddie's sigh was automatic, and long-suffering. "Don't call me Edmundo. And take the marshmallows out of the cart - I'm not dealing with a sugar high from Christopher _and_ you when we get home.)

Buck didn’t have many friends.

But the friends he did have were good ones.


End file.
